THE GREEK IDEAL BEAUTY.
On this important doctrine of art, of which Winckelmann says: "The ideal
is as much more noble than the mechanical as the mind is superior to the
body," I shall follow, so far as I can advantageously, the great writers
on this subject, in order that the reader may have all the confidence in
its recognised portions that authority can bestow, and that he may the
better distinguish them from the new views which are here added.
"There are," says Winckelmann, "two kinds of beauty, individual and ideal:
the former is a combination of the beauties of an individual; the latter,
a selection of beautiful parts from several.
"The formation of beauty was begun from some beautiful individual, that
is, from the imitation of some beautiful person, as in the representation
of some divinity. Even in the ages when the arts were flourishing, the
goddesses were formed from the models of beautiful women, and even from
those who publicly sold their charms: such was Theodota, of whom Xenophon
speaks. Nor was any one scandalized at it, for the opinion of the ancients
on these matters was very different from ours."
Winckelmann adds: "There is rarely or never, a body without fault, all the
parts of which are such that it is impossible to find or draw them more
perfect in other persons. The wisest artists, being aware of this ... did
not confine themselves to copying the forms of beauty from one individual
... but seeking what is beautiful from various objects, they endeavored to
combine them together, as the celebrated Parrhasius says in his discourse
with Socrates. Thus, in the formation of their figures, they were not
guided by any personal affections, by which we are frequently led, in the
pursuit of beauty that pleases us, to abandon true beauty.
"From the selection of the most beautiful parts and their harmonious union
in one figure, arises ideal beauty: nor is this a metaphysical idea,
because all the portions of the human figure taken separately are not
ideal; but merely the entire figure." And he elsewhere says: "It is called
ideal, not as regards its parts, but as a whole, in which nature can be
surpassed by art."
With deeper observation still, he adds that, "though nature tends to
perfection in the formation of individuals, yet she is so constantly
thwarted by the numerous accidents to which humanity is subject, that she
cannot attain the end proposed; so that it is in a manner impossible to
find an individual in whom all parts of the body are perfectly beautiful."
It was to the same purport that Proclus had in ancient times said: "He who
takes for his model such forms as nature produces, and confines himself
to an exact imitation of them, will never attain to what is perfectly
beautiful. For the works of nature are full of disproportion, and fall
very short of the true standard of beauty. So that Phidias, when he formed
his Jupiter, did not copy any object ever presented to his sight, but
contemplated only that image which he had conceived in his mind from
Homer's description."[46]
In short, while the Greek artists perpetually studied nature, they
discovered her best and highest tendencies even in her most perfect forms;
their works accordingly present nothing foreign to that which is strictly
beautiful; they present not only no inferior forms, but no idle ornaments;
and everything in them is accordingly at once simple and sublime.
Barry[47] affords me the means of continuing the view I now wish to
present. "In all individuals," he says, "of every species, there is
necessarily a visible tendency to a certain point or form. In this point
or form, the standard of each species rests. The deviations from this,
either by excess or deficiency, are of two kinds: first, deviations
indicating a more peculiar adaptation of certain characters of advantage
and utility, such as strength, agility, and so forth; even mental as well
as corporeal, since they sometimes result from habit and education, as
well as from original conformation. In these deviations, are to be found
those ingredients which, in their composition and union, exhibit the
abstract or ideal perfection in the several classes or species of
character. The second kind of deviation is that which, having no reference
to anything useful or advantageous, but rather visibly indicating the
contrary, as being useless, cumbersome, or deficient, is considered as
deformity; and this deformity will be always found different in the
several individuals, by either not being in the same part, in the same
manner, or in the same degree. The points of agreement which indicate the
species, are therefore many; of difference which indicate the deformity,
few."
Barry, however, wrongly says: "Mere beauty, then, though always
interesting, is, notwithstanding, vague and indeterminate; as it indicates
no particular expression either of body or mind." But it indicates the
highest character, the capability of all noble expression, and this is
better than its sacrifice to actuality in one.
I am now led to the greater rules which their ideal method suggested to
the Greeks. Payne Knight indeed says: "Precise rules and definitions, in
matters of this sort, are merely the playthings or tools of
system-builders;" and, unchecked by any recollection of the practical and
unrivalled excellence of the founders of these rules, he adds a great deal
of narrow-minded and mistaken nonsense upon the subject, never
distinguishing between rules in themselves rational, and the stretching of
them to utter inapplicability. On this subject, even Reynolds properly
observes, that "some of the greatest names of antiquity, and those who
have most distinguished themselves in works of genius and imagination,
were equally eminent for their critical skill. Plato, Aristotle, Cicero,
and Horace; and among the moderns, Boileau, Corneille, Pope, and Dryden,
are at least instances of genius not being destroyed by attention or
subjection to rules and science."
But the grossest errors on this subject have been committed by Alison, who
says: "Artists, in every age, have taken pains to ascertain the most exact
measurement of the human form, and of all its parts.... If the beauty of
form consisted in any original proportion, the productions of the fine
arts would everywhere have testified it; and, in the works of the statuary
and the painter, we should have found only this sole and sacred system of
proportion. The fact however is, as every one knows, that, in such
productions, no such rule is observed; that there is no one proportion of
parts which belongs to the most beautiful productions of these arts; that
the proportions of the Apollo, for instance, are different from those of
the Hercules, the Antinous, the Gladiator, &c.; and that there are not,
in the whole catalogue of ancient statues, two, perhaps, of which the
proportions are actually the same."
Now, I believe, we may say that this original or most perfect proportion
is presented in the Apollo, which is not, as generally supposed, an
example of _peculiar_, but of _universal_ beauty--the locomotive system
presenting as much strength as is compatible with agility, and as much
agility as is compatible with strength, and any other modification of
either ensuring diminution of power; while the vital and mental systems
are equally perfect. Wherever this model is deviated from by the ancient
artists it is _peculiar_ beauty, I believe, that is represented.
He farther says: "They have imagined also various standards of this
measurement; and many disputes have arisen, whether the length of the
head, of the foot, or of the nose, was to be considered as this central
and sacred standard. Of such questions and such disputes, it is not
possible to speak with seriousness, when they occur in the present times."
So also Burke says: "It must be likewise shown, that these parts stand in
such a relation to each other, that the comparison between them may be
easily made, and that the affection of the mind may naturally result from
it."
Now, no man in his senses ever cared which of these measures was adopted,
except as a matter of convenience, or ever imagined that peculiar virtue
resided in any of them.
The following are some of the principal rules which either by intuition
or with due definition, resulted from and guided the practice of the
ancient Greeks.
First, in regard to the THINKING SYSTEM, when the ancient artists, either
from taste or from principle, gave greater opening to the facial angle
than eighty degrees, they believed that an increase of intelligence
corresponded to that conformation. By increasing the angle beyond
eighty-five degrees, they impressed upon their figures the grandest
character, as we see in the heads of the Apollo, the Venus, and others
whose facial angle extends to or exceeds ninety degrees.
In regard to _the forehead_, then, this afforded their rule for
distinguishing beings of a superior kind. How well they observed the
tendency of nature to increase that angle with the increase of some of the
thinking faculties, we now know. This ideal rule was, therefore, admirably
founded.
Whoever reflects on the nature of this angle will perceive that its
increase tended nowise to raise the forehead, but to throw it forward, and
therefore to lengthen the head. This conforms to the metaphor by which a
_long head_ is used for a _wise head_, and which has not yet given place
to a _broad head_, preferred by the German craniologists, in compliment to
their own organization.
With regard to the height of the forehead, it has already been observed
that it was, among the ancient Greeks, more considerable than its breadth,
as may be seen by the busts of their most illustrious men. Still, neither
the natural nor the ideal forehead much exceeded the space from the
forehead to the bottom of the nose, or that from the nose to the bottom of
the chin.
Winckelmann accordingly says: "The forehead to be beautiful should be low
[meaning, as his expressions elsewhere show, no higher than the other two
spaces just mentioned]; and its lowness was so fixed among the ideas of
beauty by the Grecian artists, that it serves as a mark to distinguish
modern heads from ancient. The reason of this appears founded in the very
rules of proportion, which, as in the whole human body, was among the
ancients tripartite: thus, the face also was divided into three parts; so
that the forehead should be of the same length as the nose, and the
remainder of the face to the chin of the same length likewise. This
proportion was founded on observation, and we may at any time convince
ourselves of it in any individual with a low forehead, by covering with a
finger the hair at the top of the forehead, so as to render it so much
higher, and we shall then see a want of harmony of proportion and how
detrimental a high forehead is to beauty."
These views of Winckelmann, the ideal rule which they illustrate, and,
above all, the actual dimension of the forehead among the philosophers,
the poets, and the legislators of Greece, whose genius has been unequalled
in modern times, show the folly of the craniological hypothesis. The
reason of the ideal rule has not, indeed, been assigned: it appears to me
to be this, that the three parts of the face which, as I have shown both
here and in my work on physiognomy, are respectively connected with
ideas, emotions, and passions, should be equal one to another, or that
these acts of the organs of sense and brain should be in due proportion
and harmony. While, therefore, I do not, with the craniologists, seek the
predominance of any one of them, neither do I, with Giovani de Laet, take
no notice of the space between the top of the head and the commencement of
the forehead, and say this part is not to be considered in the height of a
man, _quia pars excrementosa est_!
Their next rule regarded the form of _the nose_, in nearly the same line
with the forehead, and with little indentation between these parts.
The foundation of this rule I have not seen pointed out; and it was indeed
difficult of discovery, without previous knowledge of the physiological
fact first mentioned in my physiognomical work, namely, that the nose is
the inlet of vital emotion or pleasure, as the eye is of mental emotion;
while the passions connected with nutrition and thought respectively,
depend upon other organs, the mouth and the ear. Anatomists know how
closely associated are the nose and the eyes, and the mouth and the ears,
respectively.
Now, as in these ideal representations, their object was to increase the
means of emotion, but not those of passion, the organs of the former, the
nose and the eyes, were all, at the same time, enlarged by raising the
junction of the forehead and the nose; while those of passion, the mouth
and the ears, were relatively decreased. Not only was the passage of nose
or of the olfactory nerves to the brain strikingly dilated by this
elevation of the intermediate part, but the orbits of the eyes were
enlarged. As then we naturally associate the increase of organs with the
increase of their sensations and with corresponding effects upon the
brain, and as the tendency to such configuration is as conspicuous in the
countries they inhabited, as is the energy of the emotions with which they
are connected, this rule was as admirably founded as the former in natural
tendencies.
I deem this a pendant to Camper's discovery of the facial angle, and one
too which was not quite so obvious or so easy to be made. It disposes of
this middle or intermediate part of the face, and shows that the Greeks in
beings of the highest character, desired the gradual predominance of
emotion over passion, and of ideas or intellect over emotion.
A vague feeling of the curious fact I have here explained, Alison, as a
man of taste, had, when he said: "Apply, however, this beautiful form, to
the countenance of the warrior, the bandit, the martyr, &c., or to any
countenance which is meant to express deep or powerful _passion_, and the
most vulgar spectator would be sensible of dissatisfaction, if not
disgust."
In endeavoring to assign a reason for the configuration which I have just
explained, Winckelmann, in ascribing it to the mere production of effect,
is driven into a ridiculous inconsistency. He thinks that for large
statues seen at a distance, it was necessary, and so came to be used for
small medals seen near, for which it was not necessary.
"In the heads of statues, and particularly in ideal heads, the eyes are
deeper set: the bulb remains more deep than is usual in nature, in which
sunken eyes render the countenance austere and cunning instead of calm and
joyful. In this respect, art has departed with reason from nature; for, in
figures placed to be seen at a distance, if the bulb of the eye were level
with the edge of the orbit, there would be no effect produced of light and
shade; and the eye itself, placed under the eyebrows which do not project,
would be dull and inexpressive. This maxim, adopted for large statues,
became in time universal; so that it may be observed even on medals, not
only in ideal heads but in portraits." And elsewhere he says: "Art
subsequently established it as a rule to give this form to the eyes even
in small figures, as may be seen in the heads on coins."
Thus Winckelmann's reason avowedly explains only the half of that to which
it is applied, and in reality explains nothing, because it leaves a gross
inconsistency, of which Greek genius was incapable.
Of the general outline thus formed of the face, Winckelmann more truly
says: "In the formation of the face, the Greek profile is the principal
characteristic of sublime beauty. This profile is produced by the straight
line, or the line but very slightly indented, which the forehead and nose
form in youthful faces, especially female ones. Nature seems less
disposed to accord this form to the face in cold than in mild and
temperate climes; but wherever this profile is found, it is always
beautiful. The straight full line expresses a kind of greatness, and,
gently curved, it presents the idea of agreeable delicacy. That in these
profiles exists one cause of beauty is proved by the character of the
opposite line; for the greater the inflection of the nose, the less
beautiful is the face; and if, when seen sidewise, it presents a bad
profile, it is useless to look for beauty in any other view."
A _third rule_ of the Greek artists, in heads of the highest character, is
greatly illustrated by the new views just stated. If, in these, they
desired to render ideas and intellect more dominant than emotions of
pleasure or pain, and emotions more dominant than passion, it becomes
evident why they equally sought to avoid the convulsions of impassioned
expression.
A very beautiful object of this, is mistaken by Winckelmann. I quote his
words:--
"Taken in either sense [of action or of passion], expression changes the
features of the face, and the disposition of the body, and, consequently,
the forms which constitute beauty; and the greater the change, the greater
the loss of beauty. Therefore, the state of tranquillity and repose was
considered as a fundamental point in the art. Tranquillity is the state
proper to beauty.
"The handsomest men are generally the most mild and the best disposed.
"Besides, tranquillity and repose, both in men and animals, is the state
which allows us best to examine and represent their nature and qualities;
as we can see the bottom of the sea or rivers only when the waves are
tranquil and the stream runs smoothly.
"Therefore, the Grecian artists, wishing to depict, in their
representations of their deities, the perfection of human beauty, strove
to produce, in their countenances and actions, a certain placidity without
the slightest change or perturbation, which, according to their
philosophy, was at variance with the nature and character of the gods. The
figures produced in this state of repose, expressed a perfect equilibrium
of feeling.
"But, as complete tranquillity and repose cannot exist in figures in
action, and even the gods are represented in human form, and subject to
human affections, we must not always expect to find in them the most
sublime idea of beauty. This is then compensated for by expression. The
ancient artists, however, never lost sight of it: it was always their
principal object, to which expression was in some sort made subservient.
"Beauty without expression would be insignificant, and expression without
beauty would be unpleasing; but, from their influence over each other,
from combining together their apparently discordant qualities, results an
eloquent, persuasive, and interesting beauty."
Some of these remarks are true and beautiful; but _the great object of the
Greeks, in suppressing the convulsions of impassioned expression, was the
bestowal of grace_, the highest quality in all representation. It is
surprising that this should have been so universally overlooked, that,
even among artists, nothing is more common than to hear regrets that the
Greeks gave so little expression to their figures! Let the reader now
peruse again Dr. Smith's and Mr. Alison's account of grace, and if he is
acquainted with the productions of ancient art, he will see that the
Greeks suppressed impassioned expression only to bestow the highest degree
of grace. Those, therefore, who complain of this, show themselves ignorant
of the best object of their art.
If the explanation of this great purpose be clearly borne in mind, the
remaining observations of Winckelmann will receive a better application
than that to which he limited them:--
"Repose and tranquillity may be regarded as the effect of that composed
manner which the Grecians studied to show in their actions and gestures.
Among them, a hurried gait was regarded as contrary to the idea of decent
deportment, and partaking somewhat of expressive boldness.... While on the
other hand, slow and regulated motions of the body were proofs among the
ancients of a great mind.
"The highest idea of tranquillity and composure is found expressed in the
representations of the divinities; so that from the father of the gods to
the inferior deities, their figures appear free from the influence of any
affection. The greatest of the poets thus describes Jupiter as making all
Olympus tremble by merely moving his eyebrow or shaking his locks.... All
the figures of Jupiter are not however made in the same style.
"The Vatican Apollo represents this god quiet and tranquil after the death
of the serpent Python which he had slain with a dart, and should also
express a certain contempt for a victory so easy to him. The skilful
artist, who wished to imbody the most beautiful of the gods, has depicted
anger in the nose, which according to the most ancient poets was the seat
of it, and contempt in the lips: contempt is expressed by the drawing up
of the under lip, and anger by the expansion of the nostrils.
"The expression of the passions in the face should accord with the
attitude and gestures of the body; and the latter should be suitable to
the dignity of the gods in their statues and figures: from this results
its propriety.
"In representing the figures of heroes, the ancient artist exercised equal
care and judgment; and expressed only those human affections which are
suitable for a wise man, who represses the violence of his passions, and
scarcely allows a spark of the internal flame to be seen, so as to leave
to those who are desirous of it, the trouble of finding out what remains
concealed.
"We have examples of this in two of the most beautiful works of antiquity,
one of which is the image of the fear of certain death, the other of
suffering exceeding anguish.
"Niobe and her daughters, against whom Diana shot her fatal arrows, are
represented as seized with terror and horror, in that state of
indescribable anguish, when the sight of instant and inevitable death
deprives the mind of the power of thought. Of this state of stupor and
insensibility, the fable gives us an idea in the metamorphosis of Niobe
into a stone; and hence Æschylus introduces her in his tragedy as stunned
and speechless. In such a moment, when all thought and feeling ceases, in
a state bordering upon insensibility, the appearance is not altered nor
any feature of the face disturbed, and the mighty artist could here depict
the most sublime beauty, and has indeed done so. Niobe and her daughters
are, and ever will be, the most perfect models of beauty.
"Laocoon is the image of the most acute grief, that puts the nerves, the
muscles, and the veins, in action. His blood is in a state of extreme
agitation from the venomous bite of the serpents; every part of his body
evinces pain and suffering; and the artist has put in motion, so to speak,
all the springs of nature, and thus made known the extent of his art and
the depth of his knowledge. In the representation, however, of this
excessive torment, we can still recognise the conduct of a brave man
struggling against his misfortunes, stifling the emotions of his anguish,
and striving to repress them."
"The ancient artists have preserved this air of composure even in their
dancing figures, except the Bacchanals; and thus an opinion obtained that
the action of their figures should be modelled on the manners adopted in
their ancient dances, and therefore, in their later dances, the ancient
figures served as a model to the performers to prevent their overstepping
the bounds of a modest deportment:
Molli diducunt candida gestu
Brachia. _Propert._
"No immoderate or violent passions are ever found expressed in the public
works of the ancients.
"The knowledge of the ancients cannot be better known than by comparing
their performances with the majority of those of the moderns, in which a
little is expressed by much, instead of much by a little. This is what the
Greeks call [Greek: parenthyrsos]; a word that aptly expresses the defect
produced by too much expression in modern artists. Their figures resemble
in action the comedians of the ancient theatre, who, to render themselves
visible even to the most distant portion of the audience, were compelled
to exceed the limits of nature and truth; and the faces of modern figures
are like the ancient masks, which for the same reason, the increase of
expression, became hideous.
"This excess of expression is taught in a book which goes into the hands
of all young artists, 'A Treatise on the Passions,' by Carlo Le Brun, and
in the annexed drawings, not only is the highest degree of passion
expressed on the face, but in some even to madness."
Hence, we may say with Azara, that "the Greeks possessed that art in such
perfection, that in their statues one scarcely discovers that they had
thought of expression, and nevertheless each says that which it ought to
say. They are in a repose which shows all the beauty without any
alteration; and a soft and sweet motion, of the mouth, the eyes, or the
mere action, expresses the effect, enchanting at once the mind and the
senses."
In the inferior beings, however, when passion is expressed, the features
are varied by the Greek artists as they are in nature.
Such are the great ideal rules with regard to the head and the functions
of thought.
With regard to the body and the NUTRITIVE SYSTEM, the Greeks similarly
idealized. "Seeking for images of worship, consequently of a nature
superior to our own, so that they might awaken in the mind veneration and
love, they thought that the representations most worthy of the Divinity,
and most likely to attract the attention of man, would be those expressing
the continuance of the gods in eternal youth and in the prime of life.
"To the idea derived from the poets, of the eternal youth of the deities,
whether male or female, was added another by which they supposed the
female divinities should have all the appearance of virgins.
"The form of the breast in the figures of the divinities, is like that of
a virgin, which, to be beautiful, must possess a moderate fulness. This
was particularly shown in the breasts, which the artists represented
without nipples, like those of young girls, whose cincture, in the poet's
phrase, Lucina has not yet undone.
On their treatment of the limbs and LOCOMOTIVE SYSTEM, Hogarth throws
light; and, as I am not aware that he was anticipated in this respect, I
quote him:--
"May be," he says, "I cannot throw a stronger light on what has been
hitherto said of proportion, than by animadverting on a remarkable beauty
in the Apollo Belvidere, which hath given it the preference even to the
Antinous: I mean a superaddition of greatness, to at least as much beauty
and grace as is found in the latter.
"These two masterpieces of art are seen together in the same apartment at
Rome, where the Antinous fills the spectator with admiration only, while
the Apollo strikes him with surprise, and, as travellers express
themselves, with an appearance of something more than human; which they of
course are always at a loss to describe: and this effect, they say, is the
more astonishing, as, upon examination, its disproportion is evident even
to a common eye. One of the best sculptors we have in England, who lately
went to see them, confirmed to me what has been now said, particularly as
to the legs and thighs being too long, and too large for the upper parts.
"Although, in very great works, we often see an inferior part neglected,
yet here it cannot be the case, because, in a fine statue, just proportion
is one of its essential beauties: therefore, it stands to reason, that
these limbs must have been lengthened on purpose, otherwise it might have
been easily avoided.
"So that if we examine the beauties of this figure thoroughly we may
reasonably conclude, that what has been hitherto thought so unaccountably
excellent in its general appearance, has been owing to what has seemed a
blemish in a part of it: but let us endeavor to make this matter as clear
as possible, as it may add more force to what has been said.
"Statues, by being bigger than life (as this one is, and larger than the
Antinous), always gain some nobleness in effect, according to the
principle of quantity, but this alone is not sufficient to give what is
properly to be called greatness in proportion.... Greatness of proportion
must be considered as depending on the application of quantity to those
parts of the body where it can give more scope to its grace in movement,
as to the neck for the larger and swanlike turns of the head, and to the
legs and thighs, for the more ample sway of all the upper parts together.
"By which we find that the Antinous being equally magnified to the
Apollo's height, would not sufficiently produce that superiority of
effect, as to greatness, so evidently seen in the latter. The additions
necessary to the production of this greatness in proportion, as it there
appears added to grace, must then be, by the proper application of them to
the parts mentioned only.
"I know not how farther to prove this matter than by appealing to the
reader's eye, and common observation, as before.... The Antinous being
allowed to have the justest proportion possible, let us see what addition,
upon the principle of quantity, can be made to it, without taking away
any of its beauty.
"If we imagine an addition of dimensions to the head, we shall immediately
conceive it would only deform--if to the hands or feet, we are sensible of
something gross and ungenteel--if to the whole lengths of the arms, we
feel they would be dangling and awkward--if, by an addition of length or
breadth to the body, we know it would appear heavy and clumsy--there
remains then only the neck, with the legs and thighs to speak of; but to
these we find, that not only certain additions may be admitted without
causing any disagreeable effect, but that thereby greatness, the last
perfection as to the proportion, is given to the human form, as is
evidently expressed in the Apollo."
This is well done by Hogarth. It required but a little anatomical
knowledge to see the reason of this. The length of the neck, by which the
head is farther detached from the trunk, shows the independence of the
higher intellectual system upon the lower one of mere nutrition; and the
length of limbs shows that the mind had ready obedience in locomotive
power.
I have now to obviate some OBJECTIONS to the existence of simple, pure,
high, and perfect ideal beauty, objections, which writers on this subject
have hitherto neglected.
Alison says: "The proportions of the form of the infant are very different
from those of youth; these again from those of manhood; and these again
perhaps still more from those of old age and decay.... Yet every one
knows, not only that each of these periods is susceptible of beautiful
form, but, what is much more, that the actual beauty in every period
consists in the preservation of the proportions peculiar to that period,
and that these differ in every article almost from those that are
beautiful in other periods of the life of the same individual."
But the beauty of the infant is not perfect beauty: it is that, on the
contrary, of mere promise, not that of fulfilment. So also the beauty of
old age is not perfect beauty: it is that, on the contrary, which affects
and interests us chiefly by the regret we feel that its perfection has
passed, or is gradually vanishing.
"The same observation," says Alison, "is yet still more obvious with
regard to the difference of sex. In every part of the form, the
proportions which are beautiful in the two sexes are different; and the
application of the proportions of the one to the form of the other, is
everywhere felt as painful and disgusting." So also says Burke: "Let us
rest a moment on this point; and consider how much difference there is
between the measures that prevail in many similar parts of the body, in
the two sexes of this single species only. If you assign any determinate
proportions to the limbs of man, and if you limit human beauty to these
proportions, when you find a woman who differs in the make and measure of
almost every part, you must conclude her not to be beautiful in spite of
the suggestions of your imagination; or in obedience to your imagination
you must renounce your rules; you must lay by the scale and compass, and
look out for some other cause of beauty. For, if beauty be attached to
certain measures which operate from a principle in nature, why should
similar parts with different measures of proportion be found to have
beauty, and this, too, in the very same species?"
To this I might say the beauty of woman is not the highest beauty: it is
beauty of the nutritive more than of the higher thinking system. But there
is another and a better answer: the difference of sex which affects all
the higher animals is a greater difference than that which subsists
between some of their varieties or even of their species; and the same
laws of ideal beauty are as inapplicable to different sexes as to
different species.
"We see, every day, around us," says Alison, "some forms of our species
which affect us with sentiments of beauty. In our own sex, we see the
forms of the legislator, the man of rank, the general, the man of science,
the private soldier, the sailor, the laborer, the beggar, &c. In the other
sex, we see the forms of the matron, the widow, the young woman, the
nurse, the domestic servant, &c.... We expect different proportions of
form from the painter, in his representation of a warrior and a shepherd,
of a senator and of a peasant, of a wrestler and a boatman, of a savage
and of a man of cultivated manners.... We expect, in the same manner, from
the statuary, very different proportions in the forms of Jove and of
Apollo [this should have been excepted], of Hercules and of Antinous, of a
Grace and of Andromache, of a Bacchanal and of Minerva," &c.
That, in all these cases, the beauty is partial, is evident from the
circumstance that what is found in one is wanting in another; and partial
beauty is not perfect beauty. But this last point has been well stated by
Reynolds and Barry.
"To the principle I have laid down," says Reynolds, "that the idea of
beauty in each species of being is an invariable one, it may be objected,
that in every particular species there are various central forms which are
separate and distinct from each other, and yet are undeniably beautiful;
that in the human figure, for instance, the beauty of Hercules is one, of
the Gladiator another, of the Apollo another [again the same error]; which
makes so many different ideas of beauty.... It is true, indeed, that these
figures are each perfect in their kind, though of different character and
proportions; but still none of them is the representation of an
individual, but of a class. And as there is one general form, which, as I
have said, belongs to the human kind at large, so in each of these classes
there is one common idea and central form, which is the abstract of the
various individual forms belonging to that class. Thus, though the forms
of childhood and age differ exceedingly, there is a common form in
childhood, and a common form in age, which is the more perfect, as it is
more remote from all peculiarities. But I must add farther, that though
the most perfect forms of each of the general divisions of the human
figure are ideal, and superior to any individual form of that class, yet
the highest perfection of the human figure is not to be found in any one
of them. It is not in the Hercules, nor in the Gladiator, nor in the
Apollo, but in that form which is taken from all, and which partakes
equally of the activity of the Gladiator, of the delicacy of the Apollo,
and of the muscular strength of the Hercules. For perfect beauty in any
species must combine all the characters which are beautiful in that
species. It cannot consist in any one to the exclusion of the rest: no
one, therefore, must be predominant, that no one may be deficient."
"A high degree of particular character," says Barry, "cannot be
superinduced upon pure or simple beauty without altering its constituent
parts; this is peculiar to grace only; for particular characters consist,
as has been observed before, in those deviations from the general standard
for the better purpose of effecting utility and power, and become so many
species of a higher order; where nature is elevated into grandeur,
majesty, and sublimity."
There is AN IDEAL IN ATTITUDE as well as in the form of the head and body.
This ideal is exactly opposed to the academical rule mentioned by
Dufresnoy, Reynolds, and others, namely, that the right leg and left arm,
or the left leg and right arm, should be advanced or withdrawn together.
These are the mere attitudes of progression, not those of expression; and
the academical rule is only an academical blunder. To anything but
walking--to the free and unembarrassed expressions of the body, it is,
indeed, quite inapplicable, and could produce only contortion.
The rule of ideal attitude, which I long ago deduced, both from
physiological principles, and from the practice of the Greek artists, is
that all the parts of one side of the body should be advanced or withdrawn
together; that when one side is advanced, the other should be withdrawn;
and that when the right arm is elevated, extended, or bent forward, the
left leg should be elevated, extended, or bent backward--in all respects
the reverse of the academical rule, so complacently mentioned by
Dufresnoy, Reynolds, &c.
The foundation of this rule in the necessary balance of the body, and that
distribution of motion which equally animates every part, must be obvious
to every one. It is illustrated by the finest statues of the Greeks,
wherever the expression intended was free and unembarrassed, and even in
those, as the Laocoon and his sons, where, though the action was
constrained and convulsive, the sculptor was yet at liberty to employ the
most beautiful attitude. It is abandoned in these great works, when either
action embarrassed by purpose, or clownishness, as in the Dancing Faun,
are expressed.[48]
I have now only to add, with Moreau, that individual beauty, the most
perfect, differs always greatly from the ideal, and that which is least
removed from it, is very difficult to be found. Hence, in all languages,
the epithet _rare_ is attached to beauty; and the Italians even call it
_pellegrina_, foreign, to indicate that they have not frequently an
opportunity of seeing it: they speak of "_bellezze
pellegrine_,"--"_leggiadria singolare e pellegrina_."